𝐀𝐫𝐜 𝐈 | bnha

tired

(she doesn't mean for it to happen, but a thin layer of self-loathing finds its way beneath her skin, settling there so nicely that she forgets what its like without it.

why? might you ask, does she hate herself?

its more of a frustration, a god why can't i do anything sensibly, anything right?

its anger directed at the way she was wired, and no matter how many times she tells herself that she can't help it, that maybe this was good. but there was still a small voice that whispered, maybe this would be easier if you were normal, maybe talking with friends wouldn't be a struggle and maybe a normal conversation wouldn't sounds like a screaming match in your ears.

would it be easier?

if i wasn't like this?)

Her mouth is dry and her vision seems to light up with static as her eyes unfocus. Her unfinished homework sits in another tab on her computer. (Y/n) heaves a sigh, running through the small but irrationally overwhelming list of things she has to do.

She decides to take a nap instead.

~~~

(in every single prominent work of revolution, fictional or otherwise, there is a song, a chant, a hymn which rouses the people to action.

why?

because song is the oldest form of memory. song reaches back further than the first carving on a slate, before the first healed femur. song is the sound of our ancestors, reminding us of what emotions make us human.

but it isn't a song of revolution that she hears now in her head.

she hears only the song of a murder's lover. a lament.)

(Y/n) hums to herself quietly, the first noise she had made all day, and it startles her deskmate. Her deskmate, Hatsume Mei, glances up at her, her hands stilling. "What're ya singing?"

(Y/n) glances up and takes a moment to comprehend her question. "I don't remember the name."

"What's it about?"

The answer will be awkward and the two are just starting to get along, so (Y/n) gives only a small white lie- more of a half lie. "I don't remember the lyrics, it's been a while since I've heard it."

(in truth, she had memorized every lyric, every haunting note of the lament since she heard it years ago.)

"Oh," Hatsume responds. She's disappointed. "Oh hey! You're a bio-support kinda kid right? Can ya take a look at this real quick? I'd owe you one!"

(Y/n) blinks. She wasn't the only who switched tracks that quickly. A bright smile found its way onto her lips as she responded. "Sure."

~~~

She seemed to have done it again. Her memory was fragmented, with gaps between certain colorful, vivid memories. Running her hands through her hair, she heaved a small sigh that didn't go unnoticed by Hitoshi, standing besides her in the lunchline.

"Something wrong?"

"I need some epic g-fuel," she jokes weakly, a small laugh escaping her lips. Hitoshi gives a quiet laugh before speaking again.

"You look tired."

(Y/n) shoots him a side look. "Pot calling the kettle black, huh?"

He doesn't laugh this time; he rolls his eyes. "I always look like this. You just started looking-"

The dull buzz was back, drowning out her thoughts.

The lights seemed brighter than they were a second ago, the lunchroom louder.

She only swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked rapidly, pretending that her head wasn't killing her, that the torrent of noise and lights and people and sounds around her didn't make her want to curl up in a ball.

Today was a bad day.

~~~

(there was an empty, hollow space that had lodged itself in her chest and a consuming inferno that resided in the pit of her stomach. she still couldn't tell if it was anger or apprehension.

they were both equally possible as she stood in front of the mirror, phone in hand as it dialed the number on the business card clenched in the other hand.)

an:

quick poll to decide the direction. leave a comment besides whatever u choose.

disillusion?

or unshakeable?

grey?

or necessary evil?

tenuous?

or betrayal?